They don't belong to me. They belong to Roger Kumble. I wish I could have Sebastian though.

Act 1: Parting—

"Do you hate me, Sebastian?"

"I don't hate you. You know I never can."

"Good. After this night you are dead to me."

The kiss lasted a lifetime and she scraped him raw.

Her mouth is a cavern of warm champagne.

Eyes endless in its depth.

She whispered something in his ear as she prepared to leave the room.

He's asleep. What did she tell him?

A hand gripped the photograph of a pretty blonde with trusting blue eyes.

This time the word was clear but the sound of tearing drowned it out.

"Traitor."

He knew he shouldn't have yielded to it.

But still, Sebastian Valmont relived that night as though it happened mere seconds ago. The milk skin shining with perspiration, the softness of the firm hills that had adorned her body and commanded for his touch and his worship just as the owner did, his ears heard the murmuring of his name above all else, above all dirty words and rancorous affections, an oxymoron yet it had completely made sense.

"Bastard."

"Traitor."

All these words came out in whispers, cried out in wild abandon, in what she recognized to be the one last intimate moment she would share with the man who had been hers and hers alone. Now he belonged with another. To another. He was no longer hers and she knew it.

Sebastian told himself that it was merely out of curiosity that he indulged in her, that she was like a one final hit to an addict as a way of saying goodbye. There had been many who'd come and gone before him, but it had been in his opinion that they were merely nothing to her and therefore there was no need for the jealousy he'd felt. Now that he had had her, things would be able to remain in the past.

Still, the image persisted in his mind night after night, even in the days he spent entwined or inside of Annette Hargrove. Sometimes he looks into his girlfriend's eyes and sees green instead of blue, recognizes mischief instead of innocence and lust instead of love. What had happened that night between him and Kathryn? That was the last time they'd spoken to each other, but it was also the first time she'd looked at him that way… Her beautiful face poignantly set about in a reminiscent smile while they joined over and over again, thighs rested on his muscular ones while they sat, the battle for dominance coming to a complete standstill. It was the first time she'd said his name so softly, a breath of truth escaping her sheltered nonexistent heart. (The mythical object that would have been made of impermeable metal and melting Ice.), the first time she'd touched him not to seduce but to endear, was she spinning another web to capture him in again? To lure him back to a domain where everything was based on power?

That's what he told himself every time he saw her going about her life as it had always been (the paradigm of blue blooded upbringing and social power), utterly unfazed by his presence and never batting an eyelash when Annette was in the same vicinity.

"Don't hold back."

Ever since the terms of the bet had been completed and there were no debts to be paid, he had ceased to exist in her world. He was greatly annoyed by this, to once sit on the right side of the queen who reigned above everything good and ideal in society while she spread discord in secrecy only to be reduced to a mere acquaintance who was only to be addressed only when necessary and only to be addressed in such a manner that would insinuate politeness and not the complex history they'd shared. Where were the tapestries of colored threads that had been spun and kept during their time together? Where were the secret smirks, the knowing glances, the silent challenges and double insinuations that were once habitual for the both of them?

None. As in a philosophical sense, what has gone and died only remains in the record of those who chose to keep the memories and that was what his journal did. That which is deceased no longer resides, and therefore it mustn't be expected and acknowledged. Whenever Kathryn accidentally brushed into him, she kept her sharp tongue, preferring the usual expletive before he would say something equally nasty in return but she would already be far too gone to hear it.

Why must he be bothered by such thoughts? Why must he be bothered if they see each other in social functions and she seems apathetic at his presence? Why must Sebastian take her indifference as an indication of the cheapening of their bond in the past? That night was over. His life with Kathryn was over.

Ties were severed. Bridges were burned.

He should know. He started the fire.

The girl snuggling contented beside him gave a squeak of surprise when his entire body shot up in an immediate reaction as a familiar brunette passed by.

"What is it?"

He felt his heart grow warm at Annette's voice and shook his head to dismiss her question. A loss of a cherished companion for something new… Yes, he realized and understood that. As he cupped Annette's face and gently caressed her soft cheek with his thumb lovingly, they were interrupted by a sudden bump of someone passing and he looked up.

The music from Blaine's party was so loud but it had never bothered him before, and when he turned up to glare at the moron who had invaded his personal space, the blue in his eyes turned to ice.

The one who had been responsible for interrupting his time with Annette had an arm wrapped around Kathryn's waist.

His annoyance increased and he wanted desperately to look away, but he couldn't. The feeling of her acknowledgment for being there, the fact that this was probably the longest time Kathryn had looked at him since they parted ways made him feel accepted again. Odd as it may sound, it was a nice feeling.

"Sorry, man." The guy said, but his attention was already on the brunette beside him. Understandable of course.

Kathryn took her eyes away from him and he ceased to exist in her world once again, the tangible young man who'd stared at her probingly again shattering into thousands of pixels before dissolving into the smoke of drugs and cigarettes.

There was a small part of him that was deeply hurt by this obvious snub but he reminded himself that he had done the right thing. He was in love with Annette Hargrove and proved this point by making love to his girlfriend later that night without any thoughts of his stepsister or their estranged nature.

That night when his tongue teased hers he could have sworn he tasted champagne.

Annette never drank.

A/N: This'll be really short. I was trying out something new and well, this is what came out. Hope you like it. Wish me luck, I'll be having my midterms this week!